


From Irene - With Love and E-Numbers

by ElapsedSpiral



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Gen, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-22
Updated: 2012-04-22
Packaged: 2017-11-04 02:54:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/388891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElapsedSpiral/pseuds/ElapsedSpiral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warnings: Fluffy, sugary but otherwise harmless. Sherlock lacking manners while eating snacks. Self-beta'd. Interpretation of Sherlock and Irene's relationship as friendly because who says your rival can't also be your unwitting gal pal?</p><p>Summary: In which John compliments, Sherlock masticates and Irene wins, again.</p><p>NB: This was written between S1 and S2 AKA before the introduction of canon!Irene so interpret this as a sort of AU featuring New Jersey!Irene Adler.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From Irene - With Love and E-Numbers

“So what is it today then,” John said grimly as he strode into the living room to find Sherlock Holmes sat with his knees drawn upon the seat of the arm chair, one leg jigging slightly and his eyes wide, “Cosmic Brownies or Zebra Cake?”

“There are other brands aside from Little Debbie you know,” Sherlock muttered, biting into his latest biscuit and cradling the packet a little closer to his chest as he curled up further into his chair. He swallowed his mouthful before going on, “Although these are – Star Crunch, want one?”

John opened his mouth to comment then paused, shook his head and sighed as he watched the detective happily make his way through a chocolately, nobbly, gooey looking biscuit, making short work of what looked like a ridiculously sickly snack.

“How do you get these things? They’re not exactly Tesco material. They all say “Made in the USA” on the packets.”

Sherlock didn’t bother to swallow his mouthful before he shrugged and mumbled out an answer.

“Adler.”

“Yes,” John agreed irritably as he walked closer and took in the garish, space inspired packaging the biscuits came in, “You say that, you always say that but you don’t exactly explain who Adler is.”

Sherlock took another mammoth bite leaving him with a crescent moon slither of biscuit.

“She’s the woman,” he said sagely, or rather in a tone that might have been sage had it not resulted in his spraying crumbs across the living room. John pulled a face.

“Sherlock, please. You might try eating every day and then you wouldn’t have to gorge like this. And what on earth do you mean, she’s the woman? There’s a lot of women, in case you haven’t noticed.”

Having popped the remaining biscuit in his mouth, chewed furiously and swallowed Sherlock looked at John almost as though he was beyond help.

“Quite but she is _the_ woman as I’ve been saying all along.”

“So,” John tried a different tact: desperately fishing for more information rather than bewailing the lack of it, “She’s an ex-girlfriend?”

“Oh no,” Sherlock said with evidence distaste, “Far better than that.”

“So,” John tried again, after some thought, “An enemy?”

Sherlock tilted his head from side to side in apparent consideration then disagreement.

“Not quite as good as that.”

“...I, I’m lost,” the doctor admitted with a sigh, “I can’t think what other kinds of people inhabit Sherlock Holmes’ world.”

“An adversary,” Sherlock beamed, “She’s a thief. She beat me. Twice.”

“You sound proud of that,” John said with an almost disapproving frown.

“I was beginning to think it was an impossibility. She reassured me that things can be interesting. Now, she mainly sends me biscuits with amusing names,” he conceded, “She’s always working though, generally in the US but I know when she’s come over to visit. We should have lunch when she’s here next.”

“Yeah, wonderful. Lunch with a thief, a nice little meal at the Ritz and going home to realise your phone’s been nicked, can’t wait,” John muttered, making no effort to tone down his sarcasm.

“She’ll send it back,” Sherlock said reassuringly as he fished another biscuit from his box, “It’s only ever to prove a point, nothing more.”

“Christ, she sounds rather like someone else.”

“Well, perhaps that’s why I admire her, always a possibility,” Sherlock slowed down in his speech, his words coming out almost at the pace of a normal human being as he studied John pensively, “And now that you’ve finally wheedled that out of me-“

“It was hardly classified information.”

“But it was still bought through persistent wheedling John. I think I’ve earned the right to ask something of you, too.”

John reached out for a biscuit only for Sherlock to pull the packet away, hugging them a little closer to his shirt-clad body.

“Not yet. I’ve always wondered. I’ve tried to deduce it but I’d rather just hear it from you.”

John tried to mask his alarm at the words.

“What?”

“What were some of your first thoughts upon meeting me? Honestly, not just the claptrap on your blog,” Sherlock said firmly and instantly. John’s eyebrows rose up as he considered the unexpected question.

“That’s something you wonder about?”

“Well, when I’m left with nothing to do but eat confectionery with psychedelic sounding names, yes,” Sherlock agreed, gnawing at another Star Crunch as he spoke, “Humour me, I want to know if I was at all right.”

“Fair enough,” John leaned back in his chair and pursed his lips for a moment before his expression set resolutely. He caught Sherlock’s eye.

“Honestly?”

“Absolutely honestly.”

“Well, I thought you were a posh tit.”

Sherlock seemed to take the words entirely in his stride, nodding as he swallowed his mouthful.

“I saw you look at my cufflinks and at my attire generally, it makes sense. What else?”

“Um,” John pulled a face as he continued thinking, “I... thought you were a bit of an oddball.”

“Why so?” Sherlock’s eyes narrowed curiously.

“Well, it was lunch time and you were in the lab. Bit weird, people like to get away if they can. Also, you were too old to be an undergrad so I couldn’t figure out why on earth you would be there. And you were dressed like Jarvis Cocker. All around a bit odd.”

Sherlock nodded and gave their surroundings a rather fond, home-owner smile – the skull, the jackknife, the new addition of a petri dish of owl droppings on one windowsill.

“I think I see where you’re coming from, although Jarvis Cocker has never worn Dolce to the best of my knowledge. You did seem rather alarmed with me and my activities so I had deduced some sort of concern about my general mental well being,” Sherlock continued to study the doctor, “Anything else?”

John gave the matter one final thought and tried his best to hide his dawning realisation this brought about by leaning forward and holding out his hand.

“Can I have a biscuit?”

“You mean a Star Crunch.”

“Don’t be pedantic. Can I please have one of your tooth rotting sweets?”

“Not until you say the incredibly embarrassing thought you’ve just remembered. What could it be?” Sherlock mused, “I reminded you of a girlfriend’s ex? My hair reminded you of a seventies footballer?”

“It’s not quite that bad.”

“I have no idea, I’ve never seen football,” Sherlock said carelessly, “Come on, tell me.”

John rubbed at his brow and then, with a sort of flail of his hands in his lap, he spoke up calmly.

“Fine, but you’ll regret this,” he warned before taking a breath, “I remember thinking,” he met Sherlock’s eye then looked away once more, ““Wow, what a beautiful man”.”

An awkward silence fell made all the more awkward by the fact that John knew Sherlock was midway through a bite of biscuit but had ceased to chew.

“Keep masticating,” he offered kindly to the man and, after a long, uncertain look, the detective did so. He wet his lips afterwards and, with some apparently deep consideration picked his words.

“What?”

“Your hearing is perfectly sound.”

The detective frowned and looked at the remainder of his biscuit as though it might help him solve the riddle he had been posed.

“How did I miss that? Dilated pupils, slight blush, catch of breath, you must have had some show.”

John smiled crookedly as he saw how the detective tried and failed to come up with more of a diatribe. Eventually the man offered John the briefest of worried but flattered smiles then shoved the near empty box of biscuits in his direction.

“Now,” he said, “Before they’re all gone.”

“Thanks,” John took one and gave it an experimental bite. His eyes widened rather as he chewed, crunched and gnawed on the biscuit, “Good... god that is unbearably sweet.”

“I know, wonderfully crap aren’t they?” Sherlock agreed before sinking once more into his look of half flattered, half catatonic meditation.

“I’ll go and put the kettle on,” John said having come to trust in it and a tea bag’s ability to resolve any awkward situation. With a dazed nod Sherlock watched him walk through to the kitchen then retrieved his phone and fired off a text single-handed.

_Send more Moon Pies. Also, Funyuns. SH._

The reply was near instantaneous.

_Your roomie complimented you again. What did he say? Irene x_

After a moment of cruel, cold hearted staring at the innocent mobile Sherlock responded.

_That I’m a beautiful man apparently. SH._

Her reply was almost telepathic in its speed.

_Aw, Sherly! And this means I was right - he has a thing for you, either a mancrush or a gay crush. That would make it 3-0 to me. One day you’ll be right about something! Irene x_

_I hate you. SH_ he informed her and received a few kisses for his troubles. Sherlock dropped the phone behind the fire grate as though disowning it entirely and turned to take his mug of tea from John when the man returned.

“Recovered from the compliment yet?” the doctor smirked.

“You’re enjoying this,” Sherlock scowled, “And no. Also, I’ve changed my mind.”

“About what?”

“About Irene. We won’t have lunch if she comes to town. If we see her, we steal anything she has by the way of snacks and then we leave.”

“Sounds like a plan,” John gestured to the Star Crunch box once more, “Any left? They might be good for dunking.”


End file.
